


What We Are Now

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Episode: s03e11 The Return Part 2, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: John and Rodney are a platonic pairing. They're fine that way. Look, they just recaptured the City of the Ancestors from the Replicators, so they must be doing something right.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiramarcos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiramarcos/gifts).



> ...happy birthday, cupcake!
> 
>  
> 
> Beta by Mischief.

It was hard for John to describe how Replicators felt and sounded to his Sentinel senses, no matter how many times Rodney pestered him about it. But they really tempted John to zone out whenever they got close, which made taking the City back from them that much harder.

Replicators didn't sound like robots at all. And they didn't sound human, either—even their voices and footsteps were wrong. Their bodies, though, ugh. The miniscule ticking and clicking sounds of those hoards of tiny nanites sounded like nothing so much as ten million whispery nails on a chalkboard, if those nails were slick with oil and sticking each time they touched it. 

Yeah. That sort of covered it.

"What is wrong with you?" Rodney said quietly while rubbing a thumb over John's wrist as they waited for Elizabeth and O'Neill to finish their hugfest. 

Teyla and Ronon had gone back to New Athos to gather the Athosians, since from what John just overheard of O'Neil and Weir's conversation, soon their people would be coming home. So, everything was fine. It was all good, only John couldn't get rid of the shivery feeling up his spine. Rodney's Guide touch was all that kept him from crawling out of his skin. John took comfort from it, truly grateful he had a bond with Rodney, even if it was a light-weight platonic one.

"Thanks," he said, his voice low, as Rodney nudged closer to him. "God, I hate Replicators."

"You're telling me; do you have any idea how much work I'm going to have to do to clean out our systems? They've probably set me back two years." Rodney blew out a sigh as Woolsey approached them. 

"Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay. Thank you for the somewhat unorthodox rescue," Woolsey said somberly. 

"Think nothing of it," John said. 

"Although, you can feel free to put in a good word for us at Stargate Command," Rodney said. "If only to keep General Landry from delivering John to a court-martial."

"What's this about a court-martial?" O'Neill said, butting in. 

"Sir, as you recall, our little rescue op wasn't exactly sanctioned," John said, wincing when O'Neill's eyebrows rose.

"That's right," Woolsey said, pointing his finger. "You're all renegades!"

"Now, now, Director Woolsey," Elizabeth said. "You've had a troubling ordeal. Would you like me to show you to some new quarters where you can rest?"

"Yes, I suppose...it has been a very difficult period. They put their fingers in my head," he said plaintively as Elizabeth led him away. 

"Jeez, Landry and his pals were about to nuke the living daylights out of you two," Rodney said. "He could show a little gratitude." 

"Well, those were my orders," O'Neill said, still staring right at John. John thought he detected a whisper of amusement in the dark brown eyes, but it was so damned hard to tell with the guy. "So...I guess it's time to phone home," O'Neill continued, and John's stomach sank to the tops of his boots.

Rodney blustered, "Seriously, though. They can't be angry that we saved the City of the Ancestors from an entire brigade of evil, robotic monks from Legoland."

"There's really no guessing when it comes to the brass," John said under his breath to Rodney, gently pulling him to the side so O'Neill could hike the stairs to the control center. John followed behind, determined to be standing next to him for the dial out. If he was going to get shit-canned, he was going to make Landry do it to his face. 

He could feel Rodney behind him, hear the accelerated beat of his heart, and smelled the tang of his anxiety before respect for privacy compelled him to stop paying attention—but if John didn't know any better, he'd think Rodney was in bond threat. But they didn't have that kind of bond. Maybe the scent was just a holdover from when the Replicators had done a number on their brains. John wasn't sure what Rodney's scenario was, but John's was a doozy. He'd sent Rodney ahead to safety and then set the self-destruct, and as it ticked down, all he could think was... _Not one kiss. Not even one kiss._

John shivered and squared his shoulders as O'Neill stepped up to the dialing console. 

Rodney gave John a look but then got distracted by O'Neill's, "Is the gate enabled for the Milky Way?"

"Let me check," Rodney said, and did something with the console, his fingers dancing over the keys. John watched, impressed, as always, by Rodney's skill. 

"Go for it," Rodney said, and smirked as he rocked back and forth. "We have the power of three ZPMs on our side."

O'Neill gave him a wary look and then dialed Earth. Maybe it was John's imagination, but the buttons sounded perkier with the power boost; hell, even the whoosh of the event horizon establishing itself seemed crisper.

"General." Landry's craggy face filled the screen. He flicked his eyes over to John and frowned.

"General," Jack drawled. "Good to see you."

"It's good to be seen, Jack. Sorry, but I had to lock out your authorization code." Landry glance over at John again before saying, "You might have heard when you radioed the _Daedalus_."

"Yup. They're on their way. They've promised not to nuke us until they get a chance to check us out."

"Nice of them," Landry said, a smirk gracing his lips. "Of course, as soon as you've got things settled there, I've told Caldwell to arrest Sheppard and hand him over for court-martial."

"I beg your pardon?" Rodney said.

"The _Daedalus_ used a gate in the bridge to contact us directly," Landry said smugly. "Terrific idea of yours, Dr. McKay, having a spare puddle jumper on board to act as relay. I'm up to speed on events."

"You heard what we accomplished? And you still want to court martial Sheppard?"

"Of course!" Landry sneered right at John. "I did warn him."

John clenched his teeth. He could taste the adrenaline rising from Rodney's skin and it was making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Rodney..." he said softly in warning, but Rodney was already stepping forward, his hands raised and jabbing like spears. 

"Now listen here, you bushy-browed baboon—that's my Sentinel you're talking about."

John felt the pull of the bond before he squelched it.

"Oh, really?" Landry said doubtfully. "I'd heard he was merely a platonic partner." 

Rodney stiffened up, and John put a comforting hand on the small of his back.

"Not that you'd know anything about it, but bonds are complex things," Rodney said, his cheeks pinking up. "But I'd be only too happy to prove the depth of our bond right here and now if anyone happens to have some lube handy." 

John blinked and felt his pulse jump. His hand clutched convulsively on Rodney's waist.

"Jesus, Rodney," he croaked. Something had changed. John wasn't sure when or how, but Rodney was definitely putting out the vibe of a mate in bond threat. 

"I'm not kidding," Rodney subvocalized too quietly for the others to hear.

John licked his lips, wondering what the hell to do now. 

"In any event, they're not taking you from me," Rodney said, reaching out to take John's other hand.

John tried appealing to O'Neill with a look.

"Listen, Hank," O'Neill said. "I don't know about you, but I'm really not in the mood to see these two go at it on the gateroom floor."

"I don't know, it might be interesting," Elizabeth suddenly said, appearing behind O'Neill. "And it sounds like I've missed an important discussion."

"Just my court-martial," John said. 

"Oh?" Elizabeth turned toward Landry, her face stormy. "Now tell me, why is it, Hank, that every time I turn around, you're started some new half-assed scheme to ruin my favorite officer? What could you possibly have against him, I wonder?"

"Don't you put this on me, Dr. Weir," Landry said gruffly. "He disobeyed orders!"

"Only because you refused to listen to his very reasonable, strategic advice about a looming situation. And then refused to take action where appropriate. Are you that weak, Hank?" Elizabeth tapped her chin with one finger.

"Weak my ass," Landry said, his rage turning him red. "He's an insubordinate, cocky fly-boy who kept his Sentinel abilities under wraps against military policy—"

"Ah, I see." Elizabeth turned and gave John a knowing look. "It's all your fault, John. Didn't you know?"

"I had no idea," John said, playing along.

"Oh, well. It's as plain as the sensitive nose on your face—you should have manifested just a few months earlier back in Afghanistan so you could have successfully rescued Justin Holland. Instead, you played the martyr, went against orders and downed your craft, then found him and carried him through the desert, only to have him die when you ran into the Taliban."

"Right," John said, grinding his teeth. Justin, dying in John's arms because his senses were out of whack; pre-Sentinel syndrome had fucked his sense of direction so fully that he walked straight into the Taliban patrol. He spent the next two months as a POW. "How stupid of me not to make myself a Sentinel a little sooner."

"You were lying," Landry shouted. "To save face and a court-martial then. John Jacob Holland is a good friend of mine, and his son didn't deserve to die just because you're a fuck up."

"So which was it?" O'Neill said, butting in. "Either he was a Sentinel then and somehow blundered into the Taliban and then lied about it, or he wasn't a Sentinel and ran into the Taliban and was telling the truth about his pre-Sentinel syndrome. I mean, you don't seriously think the guy would volunteer to be a POW for kicks, do you?"

"Please. Don't expect logic from the man," Rodney said. "His brain is a cheese strudel."

"I will have my court-martial," Landry said.

"Only if you want me to show you what one pissed-off genius of a Guide can do with three full ZPMs and an Ancient city at his disposal," Rodney said, his voice deadly serious. John's heart throbbed tightly and he tried not to crush Rodney against him. "He's mine, Landry. And he just saved this city, General O'Neill, and Director Woolsey from annihilation. Not to mention we just wiped the city clean of a Replicator infestation."

"I think once General O'Neill delivers his AAR to the IOA you'll find yourself with very little support for your ambition."

"Well—I—"

O'Neill leaned in. "Hell, I was thinking of giving Sheppard a medal until he made me go swimming. I hate swimming."

Landry's face fell about ten stories.

"Sorry about that, sir," John said to O'Neill, his head spinning with relief. 

"Don't worry about it, kiddo. I don't hold a grudge. Next time, though, you really should bring Carter. She's good with remote controls."

John gave the only response possible. "Yes, sir."

:::

John's quarters had no posters, no skateboard, and no framed photo of Evel Knievel. But he was very glad to see it still had a bed.

"Are you sure about this?" Rodney was saying, edging inside the doorway but slowly, and way too slowly for John's taste. Maybe it was a little caveman Sentinel of him, but he was tempted to haul Rodney by his grab strap and just throw him on the mattress. 

"Sure, I'm sure," John said. "Why would you—Rodney, all this time, how could you still think—"

"All of what time?" Rodney said, finally stepping inside so the door closed behind him. He started to pace around. "You mean the time you let that Ancient floozy have her way with you? Or the time you almost made a gene donation to a pair of nice breasts? Or, how about that doe-eyed boy following you around saying, gee, Sheppard, teach me how to sacrifice myself to the greater good, I hear you do it all the time—"

"Rodney. Rodney. Breathe, buddy," John said, putting his hands on Rodney's shoulders and just holding him still. Sometimes a Guide's emotions became too much; most people would find it laughable to think Rodney McKay had too much genuine caring inside him, but they'd be dead fucking wrong. "I'm here, all right? And hell, Rodney. Is that why you wanted a platonic bond? You didn't trust me to keep it in my pants?"

Rodney took a deep breath and then reached up to mirror John. It was almost irresistible to lean in and touch foreheads in the Athosian way, so John didn't even try to stop himself. Rodney met him half way, and John whispered between them. "It's you, you jerk. I've wanted you from the first second, okay? From the moment you made me see whole galaxies swirling overhead. You're it for me, Rodney."

"But then why..." Rodney whined and clutched him tighter.

"Why, what?"

"Why didn't you know how I felt? Who's the Sentinel here? Why didn't you just...oh God." Rodney took another breath and shuddered, and all of a sudden John got it. He scented it, strong and heady, so rich it made him instantly hard.

"Jesus fucking Christ," John said.

"Now you're getting it," Rodney said. "Brilliant."

"Ever hear of something called privacy?" John said. "I was trying to respect yours, bright eyes."

"Oh, yes, very bright, the way you kept us from all the really great bonding sex out of virtuousness."

"So what's stopping us now?"

Rodney lifted his head and treated John to a wide-eyed look, his cheeks pink with arousal. "I can't think of a blessed thing." And then he lunged at John lips first, and John caught him, a brilliant, vivid rush of feeling swamping his chest so at first he thought he was dying of something, something wonderful and warm and bright. But it was only his heart beating twice as fast and loud as Rodney kissed him and kissed him, tongue slick and hot, and John kissed him back, making sure to taste the crooked side of his mouth, and the edge of his stubborn jaw, and the mole on his one cheek. 

"I love you, okay?" John said, and Rodney said. "Me, too, damn it," and John laughed.

This was what they were now. They'd finally made it. The bond wove tight between them, filling John with heat and light as he held Rodney closer and kissed him some more. 

"Three ZPMs and an Ancient city for me, huh?" he murmured against Rodney's lips.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Rodney said. "I'd keep at least one ZPM for myself."

John laughed and kept kissing him.

......................................  
October 31, 2016  
San Francisco, CA 


End file.
